


Afternight

by xenobia4



Series: Stranger Things: The Harringrove Chronicles [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Steve Harrington, Bullying, Homophobia, M/M, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Abuse, Rough Sex, Top Billy Hargrove
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2020-08-10 23:56:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20144110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenobia4/pseuds/xenobia4
Summary: Even being dethroned, the turnout to Steve Harrington's third annual Spring Break Party is a success. During which, someone witnesses Steve in bed with another guy.It quickly gets out that Steve Harrington is in a homosexual relationship.In the 80s.In a small town





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I've had for quite awhile. 
> 
> Steve and Billy have been in a secret relationship for a few months.
> 
> With the sexual aggression Billy exhibited towards Steve in season 2, how could they expect less?

** 1 **

For the most part, everything was going well. Despite being dethroned during the early part of the school year, the turnout at Steve Harrington’s third Spring Break party was typical. Almost every senior had showed up, along with a good number of juniors and a few sophomores who were hoping to gain a leg-up in their social status by being at a popular party. The living room and kitchen had been taken over, someone had ensured the punch had been spiked with a heavy dose of vodka, tequila and rum, a small group of juniors had managed to find a Ouija Board and were messing around with it on the coffee table in the centre of the living room. The pool and deck were overcrowded with drunk teens dancing and making out to music blaring from the _Footloose_ cassette in someone’s ’81 Mustang.

Steve was by the pool talking to Tina and her now-boyfriend Oliver Brener. Tina had asked about Nancy, which Steve nonchalantly shrugged off, merely saying the two of them realized they had different goals when it came to life post the school year. Tina had laughed and fell into her boyfriend, commenting that was why common goals needed to be established. He forced out a laugh as the new couple shared a quick peck.

Someone’s shoulder slammed into his own, causing him to spill his beer onto the two in front of him.

“Shit! Sorry, sorry!” he immediately came out, though both Tina and Oliver laughed, clearly drunk enough to find the accident hilarious. Steve glanced over his shoulder to see his old “friend” Tommy snickering.

“Can’t hold your beer, _King Steve?_” he asked, tone filled with sarcasm he believed to be the most comedic thing every spoken making his intoxication apparent.

Realizing that, Steve intended to ignore him. That was until Tommy grabbed his shoulder and turned him to face him and his still-girlfriend Carol, and two others they had apparently recruited into their group.

As if on cue, Steve released a sigh, dropping his shoulders. “What do you want, Tommy?” he asked, dumping the last bit of his beer on the ground.

They acted as though the question was inane and began laughing.

“Isn’t there a middle school dance you should be at?”

“Funny,” Steve faked a chuckle and he crushed the can. “That’s funny. Take you all night on that one?”

The laugher around him stopped as Tommy’s expression dropped. “Got it from Nancy, actually.” The response had Steve tense his jaw, his eyes over Tommy’s shoulder. “And I was with her _all night_,” he drew out the words as he leaned close to Steve’s ear.

Steve’s immediate reaction was to push the other away from him. “Leave her out of this.” His jaw was still taut and, for the first time, his eyes met Tommy’s before they fell to looking at his mouth.

“What do you care? She dumped your ass for Byers. I mean…how much of a loser can you be where one of the hottest chicks leaves you for Jonathan Byers?” The people who were listening in on the quickly-becoming-obvious confrontation and a round of small snickers could be heard.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, so why don’t you just shut up?” his voice came out low and even, though his chest tightened.

For some reason, the comment had Tommy and his new circle start to laugh. “Why don’t you make me?” he asked sardonically as he shoved Steve’s shoulder, causing him to stumble backwards. Steve said nothing, only released an aggravated sigh. “You wanna act like you’re still the king? Allow me to give you your crown.”

With that, Tommy poured his drink on Steve’s head, drenching his hair, face and shirt with beer. Everyone around him seemed to fall quiet as they stood in stunned silence. The next thing he knew, he felt a harsh shove and was falling backwards into the pool, arms flailing to reach out for stability. He hit the water with a loud splash, reflexes having him attempt to inhale before making contact, which only had him inhale a mouth and nose full of water. He fought to get his legs under him to get footing on the bottom to where he could push himself upwards. When he surfaced, gasping for breath, all he could hear was laughter and insulting comments.

He climbed out of the pool, his face burning and heart pounding. He pushed through everyone who had gathered, hearing sarcastic questions such as “what’s wrong?”, “Tommy get you wet?” and “need a towel?”. He made his way inside. Once he left the pool deck, people barely paid him attention, too preoccupied with their own drunken antics, which gave him ample opportunity to run upstairs to his bedroom. He half-expected to find a couple making out on his bed and felt relieved when it was empty.

The first thing he did was strip off his wet clothes, tossing his soaked shirt and jeans into the hamper in the corner by the closet, slimmed down to only his skivvies. He contemplated taking a shower, though voted against it, knowing it would either have a couple hooking up or a few people who had overindulged, puking their insides into or around the toilet.

With the door closed, he could still hear the muffled voices of people downstairs, the thump of music through the window that was coming from someone’s car, people laughing, people he used to get along with, people who would talk to him both in and outside of school. Now, the only time anyone spoke to him in school was to insult him, with the exception of Jonathan Byers and Nancy Wheeler. It pained him to admit that the reason people attended his parties was because it was the only time they could get away from their parents, get drunk, be loud, have sex and just enjoy the bit of freedom it gave away from their homes.

Steve wished he had that type of luxury – to have parents around he could get away from.

Even with everyone around, loneliness eased its way in and he found himself sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. He had not even been accepted to a college, yet, unlike a lot of his peers.

He was a pretty face and nothing else.

He heard the door open and he pulled his head up, exhaling to regain his composure. A familiar face was sifting through the various items on top of his dresser, stopping and picking up a framed picture of him and Nancy when they were going out in their junior year.

“You’re still hanging onto this?”

Steve raised his eyebrows with a slight smile that did not reach his eyes. “You jealous?” he asked, his tone playful despite his body language giving off his overall fatigue.

Hargrove shrugged and set the picture face down. “Maybe I am.” They shared an awkward chuckle. When he approached Steve and sat next to him, Steve visibly tensed and a shiver coursed through him. “Liking the style,” Billy snickered as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, garnering a quiet smile.

The comment had Steve realize he was sitting on the corner of bed in his still-wet boxer shorts, and chill bumps had risen on his arms and legs from the cold water dripping down from his hair.

“Anyone see you come up?”

Billy shrugged at the question and sat back on the mattress, eyes on Steve, who had somehow managed to curl into himself. “That Amy bitch from Chem, but I think she was too into that shithead Madson to give a damn.” Steve nodded, his gaze on the floor as another chill ran through him. “Tell your old boy Tommy that getting you wet is my job,” Billy’s voice was coy and smooth, leaving Steve to roll his eyes, doing his best to quell the blush rising to his cheeks. Billy sat up straight and set his elbows on his knees, his head facing Steve who maintained his focus on the floor. “Talk to me, pretty boy.”

_Pretty boy_.

Was that not all he was?

Steve turned to look at him, eyebrows furrowed upwards with eyes shining.

That was all it took for Billy to lean across him and cup his face to meet their lips. It started off soft and simple before they both fell back on the mattress, Billy still holding his face as Steve grabbed his hands. “Want me to take care of your friend downstairs?” he asked against his mouth.

Steve shook his head. “Fuck him.”

The moment his mouth was opened, Billy swiped their tongues together and pulled Steve to where he was almost on top of him. His hands went from Steve’s face to his back, while Steve’s fingers entangled themselves in his curls. For the next few moments, they laid there, tongues dancing around as any tension melted away. Billy’s calloused hands were running up and down Steve’s back, while his were tugging at Billy’s hair. The chill that had crept its was into his body waned as heat took over, and soon Steve found himself grinding against the other’s body, which was met with even more aggression.

Hands slipped into the waistband of his boxer-shorts. When Billy began gripping and massaging the cheeks of his arse, Steve moaned into his mouth, which was returned with his lower lip being bitten. The grip Steve held in his hair tightened and he pulled Billy’s head back, then brought his lips against Billy’s neck, biting and licking the skin. He began sliding downwards, making sure to keep their bodies pressed together. He stopped at the waistband to his jeans where he lifted the blonde’s shirt to unveil his sharply sculpted stomach to begin tracing his tongue down his hip bones as his hands started working Billy’s belt buckle.

Billy snickered as he pushed Steve’s hair away from his face. “Getting excited, Harrington?”

Steve chuckled as he undid the other’s button and zipper and tugged at his pants. “Seems you are,” he said as Billy’s erection sprung free.

“Gonna help me out?” He ran his hands through Steve’s hair as the older teen wrapped his right hand around his length. All he saw was Steve nod before licking the underside of his knob before taking him into his mouth. “Oh, fuck,” Billy moaned, his head falling back as his fingers continued to move through his mate’s hair. As Steve continued to move his mouth up and down, and his tongue worked every sensitive nerve, it took all of Billy’s self-control not to thrust his hips upwards, to not drive his knob into the back of Steve’s throat until he came, making the brunette drink every bit.

He pulled Steve off by his hair, his eyes hooded and pupils wide as his length twitched, ready to explode. Steve’s expression alone nearly made him lose his composure, with his hair amess, his cheeks red, spit down his chin with his mouth hanging open.

“On top,” he panted. The line came out almost desperate, but Steve complied.

He stripped out of his shorts and kicked them to the floor. The saliva would only hold up for so long, so he wasted no hesitation in lining up and allowing Billy to press the head of his prick against his cavity. It was going to hurt, and goddamn it if he did not already know, but in one move, Steve took him completely, releasing a loud shout as Billy’s entire length was buried in him.

He collapsed onto him, his arms wrapping around his neck and shoulders as his chest heaved and his body trembled.

“You dumbass,” Billy bit back the wave of pleasure that coursed through him as he held Steve close to him. “Why would you—”

“Just move,” Steve’s voice came out unsteady and pleading, his grip growing tighter as he buried his face into the nape of the blonde’s neck. When Billy tried to refute, Steve placed a kiss to his neck and tightened his grip. “_Please_.”

With that, Billy started to thrust, albeit slow. The saliva allowed him to move in and out with ease and, after a few pumps, his hands moved downwards to grab Steve’s hips. It only took a few movements before Billy’s grip intensified and hips thrust upwards, slamming and pounding deep inside him. Steve had gone from clinging to him to pushing himself up, his hands on the bed next to Billy’s head while a combination of cries and moans left his throat.

His own erection bounced up and down on Billy’s exposed stomach with each movement; and even with the pain that the lack of preparation brought, as the younger male kept slamming against his prostate, his face contorted.

“Fuck – fuck!” Billy shouted as his movements became faster and harder. “Steve – Steve – Steve – I’m gonna—”

“Inside!” Steve cried out. 

That was all it took.

With one last thrust, Billy pulled Steve’s hips down, burying his length as deep as it could go as his seed spilled from the tip. As the warm liquid filled him, Steve’s own will gave way and he came, white liquid spurting out onto Billy’s abdomen.

Steve collapsed back on top him, hugging him tightly as Billy pumped the last bit of his seed inside him.

For the next few moments, they stayed in that position, panting against each other as their hearts raced. As Billy slid his softening erection from Steve’s rectum, the brunette lifted up enough to meet their lips, their tongues clashing together. Billy’s hands had gone from grabbing at Steve’s hips to pushing his hair from his face.

“You’re more than a pretty face, you know,” Billy rasped as they momentarily broke apart. Steve’s only response was to press them back together, riding out the final bit of adrenaline, though Billy could feel the older male tense.

They grew comfortable in the solace each other brought, clinging to each other, though for different reasons. Steve was Billy’s escape from his physically abusive household, while Billy was able to give Steve the caring shoulder he always wanted.

Their moment was cut short as they both heard the door click open.

Steve shot up, his eyes on the door.

It appeared to be two intoxicated students, laughing as they opened to door and stumbled into the rom.

“Hey!” was Billy’s immediate reaction, his voice booming throughout the room.

The couple froze, their laughs being cut off. The guy immediately apologized, while the girl stopped and looked forward, her eyes locking with Steve’s. As the guy continued to apologize and began pushing both he and his hook-up out of the room, the girl kept her eyes on the brunette, even as his gaze broke away.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even being dethroned, the turnout to Steve Harrington's third annual Spring Break Party is a success. During which, someone witnesses Steve in bed with another guy.
> 
> It quickly gets out that Steve Harrington is in a homosexual relationship.
> 
> In the 80s.
> 
> In a small town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to y'all's responses, chapter two is here! (^ v ^)
> 
> Thank you so much for your feedback! It's was gives me the drive to continue!

** 2 **

“Calm down. It’ll be fine.”

Billy was in the midst of cleaning off his stomach with Steve’s discarded-and-still-soaked t-shirt as Steve was pacing in panic around the room. Either Steve did not hear him or he chose to ignore him. He watched his partner’s steps, uneasy and unfocused, eyes wild as every thought ran through his head.

“It’s Matthews!” Steve said in reference to the female he had made eye contact with. “No _way_ she’s gonna keep her mouth shut. Not after last year!” He ran his hands through his hair, neglecting the fact he was still naked, that the liquid from their excursions was dripping down his inner thighs. “We’re fucked, royally fucked. And if your dad finds out—”

“Ain’t nobody finding out,” Billy cut him off and walked up to him, aggravation at his parent being brought up obvious. He swiped the shirt across Steve’s abdomen, wiping off the residue. It caused Steve to stop moving, to stop treading back-and-forth along the floor. “Unless they want their ass beat, they’ll shut their face.”

Steve released an audible breath, his eyebrows furrowing upwards as he finally looked to Billy, who was still wiping up the drying fluids with the shirt. Chill bumps formed along his arms and legs with each brush, Billy making sure every bit of evidence was wiped clean. He brought the fabric downwards, swiping just above Steve’s groin, despite the area being bare. It was a clear hint and the brunette became aware of the white liquid seeping from his cavity and down his legs.

Releasing an awkward cry, Steve fell against him, his forehead on his neck as his arms hung loosely by his side.

“They can’t know it’s you – _he _can’t know—”

Billy brought his arms up to encompass him, the wet shirt resting against Steve’s back.

“That piece of shit won’t find out, all right?” he said in clear reference to his father. Steve only nodded as he returned the embrace. “You might wanna clean up before you go back downstairs, though.”

A snort left him laughter made its way out of Steve’s throat. It caused Billy to break, the two of them laughing against each other at the absurdity of it all.

When they pulled apart, Billy handed Steve the shirt. It was met with an incredulous look, as though Steve was appalled that it was his shirt that had been using to clean them. He could only shake his head before wiping himself, ensuring the liquid was gone. Billy made several comments, having Steve bleed red and telling him to shut up as he made sure he was completely dry.

Putting on dry clothes, Steve blew out a breath as he brought the navy-blue shirt down his midsection. All the while, Billy bit his bottom lip, eyeing him up and down.

Once fully clothed, he directed his attention to the blonde sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Don’t come down for a few minutes,” Steve said as he fluffed his hair.

“Whatever you say, princess.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he left the room.

He was straightening out his shirt when he reached the bottom of the stairs. A few people glanced at him, but otherwise paid little heed. Perhaps Matthews did decide to not say anything and he was in the clear. Even with that thought, it still did not quell the anxiety that raced through him.

There was a small crowd in the kitchen. One of the guys had their head hanging over the sink as his friend was telling him to go to outside and not puke in it. When he saw Steve, he gave an apologetic smile. Pulling his friend up, they disappeared into the living room with his friend saying that “the floor was spinning.” The “Amy” Billy had referred to was leaning back against the fridge as Tyler Madsen was in front of her, going on about the multiple scholarships he had gotten from playing quarterback the past three years for the school’s football team. Her prior interest in him had clearly waned, most likely due to Madsen being full of himself.

When he looked at her, she glanced at him with a look that was begging for him to get Madsen to stop talking. He bit back a laugh and walked up to them, clearing his throat. Madsen turned to him and Amy faked being surprised by his approach.

“Hey, Madsen. I think Balmer was looking for you,” Steve said, pointing over his shoulder.

In an instant, Madsen’s demeanour fell at the mention of the team’s captain. “What about?”

Steve shrugged. “Overheard him talking about something about Ohio State considering him? I think he wants to talk to you about it.” Panic wrote itself across his face and, without so much as another word to Amy, he left the kitchen. Steve looked back to Amy who sighed. “You all right?”

She nodded and sent him a smile. “Yeah. Thanks.” He returned the sentiment. When he turned to grab one of the beers from the counter, she called him back. “Popular or not, you’re still a great guy, Steve,” she said before making her exit.

Her comment had him chuckle as he cracked open the can and took a sip.

If the past two years taught him anything, it was that high school cliques and popularity ultimately meant nothing. Not when it could be torn away at a moment’s notice. His classmates constantly ripped on Nancy and Jonathan, but if they knew even half of the shit they had all dealt with since their junior year, their attitudes towards them all would have been different. Either way, it was a cross to bear for them all.

At the very least, it brought them all together, though in different ways.

One day, he would tell Billy, though he doubted he would be believed.

As footsteps entered the kitchen, he turned to leave, only to see the familiar face of the girl who had walked in on him in his bedroom. The look on her face was nothing but disgust, which he pretended to ignore as he passed her.

Back in the living room, he noticed Billy had returned to the crowd. With his jacket opened, a cigarette in his mouth and a beer in his hand, a dull throb radiated from Steve’s groin. He willed it away, even as the two of them made quick eye contact. He took another drink from his own can and made his way through the room as Billy went back to chatting with the group that had managed to surround him. He briefly caught a glance of Tommy near the back door, who appeared to be arguing with Carol over who-only-knew-what.

A sense of catharsis set in and he snickered as he went in the opposite direction.

He decided to join the group playing with the Ouija board in the living room, not to join in, but to watch a group of superstitious teenagers scare themselves.

Two of the girls were arguing over someone pushing the planchet when he took a seat on the arm of the couch. When one of them stormed off, their attention was drawn to Steve, trying to coax him into playing. He declined, making the comment that he would rather not get possessed. It did what he was hoping, and three out of the five, one of which was one of Steve’s male classmates, squirmed in obvious discomfort.

With the night seeming to be normal, and a few drinks swimming through his system, Steve found himself relaxing, the tension from before melting away. No one approached him about what he and Billy did upstairs, no one side-eyed him, no one gave him awkward looks – no one seemed to know.

The party was starting to thin out as people left to return home, some well over the limit, but desperate to get home before their parents realized they snuck out or where they really were. He witnessed a senior throwing their keys to a sophomore to drive them, even in their drunken stupor knowing wrecking their car would not have been worth it. Even the party messing with the Ouija board was down to two. One had abandoned the game when the person they rode with was ready to leave, and another two left after freaking out over the table jumping during a question. It had been one of the girls slamming her knee against the underside of the table as a prank.

The other two attempted to keep the game going, but the guy made a comment how it was no longer entertaining. When the girl agreed, they dispersed, the girl offering to drive him back.

There was only a handful of people around when Steve walked towards the front door. Cleaning up tomorrow was going to be a bitch, what with the various cans, bottles and overall trash strewn throughout the house. He dared not think about the state of the bathroom, knowing there would be vomit and other various fluids he would be stuck cleaning. Outside, there were a few cars still parked in front of the house. Some people thanked him for the party as they left, their cars gearing up and driving off. He noticed a familiar blue Camaro parked near a tree.

Right as he did, a shoulder rammed against his and he stumbled forward. He turned to send a glare to whomever hit him, only to see Billy with a lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

“Watch where you’re going, Harrington.” They made eye contact and Steve’s expression turned into a scowl.

“Fuck off,” Steve shot back.

At that, Billy turned to face him, taking a drag off his cigarette and blowing it in Steve’s face. “Why don’t you make me?” He glanced down at him, which, to the few people still around, came off as the him sizing Steve up.

It was a show they had put on multiple times since getting together. Some days, it was difficult to keep a straight face, Billy’s eyes sometimes travelling too far down, Steve’s heart pounding a bit too hard. A few times, the situation would escalate. Billy would shove Steve against the wall or a locker, spitting threats as a crowd would chant for them to fight. It typically ended with a cocktease as the warning bell rang throughout the halls, causing the people who did gather to scatter off towards their various classes.

The interactions would ultimately lead to a heavy session in the bathrooms in C-Wing during certain classes; where Steve would sit on the latrine at a perfect level to welcome Billy’s length into his mouth – where white streaks would cover his face and hair and he would have to wipe off with toilet paper before fathoming exiting the stall. Billy was more than willing to return the favour, though it was at the most inopportune times – like in the showers after gym, where they could be caught at any point.

But then, that was how it all started.

“Stay in your place, _princess_,” he spoke low and gave Steve a harsh shove.

Steve said nothing as he watched Billy walk to his car.

He could hear another a set of footsteps coming down the driveway and looked to see Tommy, Carol and their new groupies Richard and Donna making their way, the group obviously intoxicated. He glanced back to Billy, who had looked up at the same time to meet gazes. He was given a wink that sent a flash of colour to his cheeks as the other drove off, his taillights disappearing around a turn.

He tuned back into the group coming up from behind.

The quartet made teasing noises as they walked by him to what must have been Richard’s Peugeot 504, considering neither Tommy nor Carol had a car of their own.

“Thanks for the booze, Harrington!” Tommy called out as he turned to walk backwards towards the car, throwing an empty glass bottle that broke at his feet. “Maybe next time I’ll pay you back how you like!”

The group found the comment to be hysterical as they all stumbled forward, Donna catching herself on the front passenger’s side. Steve rolled his eyes, ignoring them and redirecting his attention elsewhere.

That was until Richard made the comment, “Not unless you’re a fag, too.”

Ice ran through his veins and he froze.

His attention snapped to them in a mask of confusion and shock. The reaction caused them to laugh harder.

As Richard unlocked the doors and everyone got in, he and Donna in the front and Carol and Tommy in the back, another beer bottle was thrown towards him. It fell a few feet short.

“See you in Homeroom, Faggington,” Tommy yelled as he slammed the rear passenger-side door shut and the car started up.

“No – no – no! _Queen Steve_!” Donna cut in, hanging partially over the front passenger side door. She banged her hand on the door, falling over in drunken stupor. 

The nickname was an immediate hit and everyone in the station wagon began chanting “Queen Steve”. Even as the car began pulling away down the road, they could still be heard yelling and laughing.

The few people that had yet to leave stared at him in curiosity. The world fell silent. All he could hear was his heart pounding and the blood pumping through his veins. It was as though he was in a tunnel, his surroundings falling to the background as he watched the car disappear around the bend. His chest tightened and the blood that had left him went to his cheeks. And as he heard whispers and chuckles start up around him, he turned on his heel, heading back inside.

The party was over.

The night was done.

_Everything was done_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so many plans for this, but it still depends on feedback. 
> 
> I *KNOW* that sounds petty, but how do us writers know to continue if we don't get responses? (O . o)  
It's a conundrum, I know~
> 
> That being said,   
I really hope this chapter worked for you and I hope you're looking forward to chapter 3! (^ v ^)


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even being dethroned, the turnout to Steve Harrington's third annual Spring Break Party is a success. During which, someone witnesses Steve in bed with another guy.
> 
> It quickly gets out that Steve Harrington is in a homosexual relationship.
> 
> In the 80s.
> 
> In a small town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! m(__ __)m
> 
> I started a new job last week and had to stay there for a few days overnight. Since I didn't have access to my laptop, I couldn't work on this. However, I was able to write it on paper.
> 
> I FINALLY had the chance the transpose it all to my computer last night and tonight.  
So, I hope you all enjoy this chapter as you have the others!

** 3 **

The engine cut off to Steve’s BMW and he fell back in the seat. He released a long exhale as he watched students make their way to the school from the senior’s parking lot. People were laughing and knocking into each other. One guy stole a girl’s purse and took off running, the girl running after him as her friends laughed. Another group was hanging around a 1970s mustang, all in football jerseys. Madsen was arguing with Balmer, which Steve found himself feeling partially guilty about, knowing it was about what he had told the quarterback a few nights prior. The group started towards the main building, their arguments turning to playful banter.

It was not until the majority of students had left the parking lot was when Steve decided to climb out. He had not seen any of his classmates since his Spring Break party that past Saturday, and the dread was easing its way in.

The knowledge of him sleeping with another guy was sure to have made its rounds, but what caused him more panic was people knowing it was Billy Hargrove. While he did not have parents around to care, Billy’s father would do who-only-knew-what to his son if he discovered he was in a homosexual relationship. They had managed to keep their relationship quiet since early December, and he would be damned if it came to light in such a manner.

He grabbed his backpack from the passenger seat. As he shut the door to his BMW, his eyes landed on the main building.

The weeks were becoming fewer and fewer – his deadlines coming faster. Even with the advisor’s assistance, no college was taking him, not even a technical school. Saturday ending like it did was merely the icing on the cake of disappointment.

When he got to the front of the building, he blended in well enough with the crowd that made its way through the doors into the main hall. He caught a glimpse of Donna with a group of her girlfriends walking his direction. He did his best to act like he was not paying attention, but his chest tightened when they laughed as they passed by him. It could have been a coincidence, but the weight in the pit of his stomach begged to differ. It was cemented when the group turned to look back at him before breaking out in another round of laughter.

Even still, he held onto the slight optimism that perhaps, outside of their close-knit groups, word had not spread as far as he feared.

That thought helped to ease his anxiety.

No one else seemed to pay him any mind as he made his way through the halls to his locker and he found his shoulders relaxing. Any tension that had left him came back full throttle when he saw his locker. The looks that had stopped began turning towards him, and he was acutely aware of the whispers and snickers. His eyes were on the floor as he walked to the locker. Despite trying to act as though it was not there as he used the turn dial to input his combination, the various comments forced him to acknowledge it.

In bright red paint, the word “FAG” was smeared across the front, the still-drying paint dripping down the door.

He slammed it open once the lock clicked.

The people who had seen it made several comments as they walked by him, others merely laughing and a few touting “Queen Steve”. He tried to tune them out by sifting through his backpack and pulling out his folder and textbooks. Shoving the papers into his locker, he was in the midst of going through what he needed for first period when a familiar face pressed their shoulder on the locker next to him.

They watched as a trio walked by Steve, looking at him and snickering.

“What’s that about?” Nancy asked as she watched the group pass, her textbooks clutched at her side. 

Steve shrugged, shoving some of the papers onto the shelf as he sorted out the cluster of various homework. “High school bullshit.” She raised her brows. Steve shoved a few more papers in the mess of clutter that had become his senior year. “Barber’s class—”

“Geology essay,” she cut him off. His look of confusion was all the answer she needed. “The homework? Elements of the Earth’s core?” She bit her bottom lip at his aggravation. She reached into her folder and took out her own homework. “Write a synopsis during homeroom. With your chicken scratch, I’m sure you can manage a page or two. Just make sure you give it back to me afterwards. He’s my first period.”

He sighed, side-eyeing the papers she held out to him. Grabbing his textbook and a notepad, he accepted them, muttering a “thanks”.

Another group passed by them, this time a few of the football players, including Madsen. One of them knocked into Steve, making the comment, “Watch your step, Queen Steve.” Steve bit down on his jaw, choosing to ignore it as the group laughed, disappearing into the crowd of students. With Nancy’s curious and prying eyes, he took his first and second block books and slammed the door shut.

As he pushed by her to go to homeroom, he failed to see her shocked and worried expression after seeing the paint on his locker.

* * *

For the most part, the first half of the day went decent enough. He had caught a few people side-eyeing him or snickering as they walked by, but no one out outright said anything. What gave him some solace was that no one mentioned Billy, which had him believing people did not know it was the Californian he was in bed with. It was a comforting thought. If the entire event merely led to comments in the halls and a tagged locker, knowing Hargrove would not be outed was more than worth it. After all, graduation was right around the corner. He could handle a few weeks of annoyance.

He had spent his lunch period scraping the tag from his locker door, making various comments about the situation to himself. Soap and water had done nothing, and he had to go to the Art classroom to get a paint scraper. He was in the midst of removing the “A” when a familiar presence came up behind him.

“Are you going to tell me what that’s about?”

He shrugged, flakes of paint falling onto the floor. “Assholes being assholes.”

Nancy’s back hit the lockers next to him, her arms crossed as she watched him. “Someone just decided to write “fag” on your locker for no reason?”

Steve nodded, becoming focused. “Seems that way.”

When he saw her nod, he sighed. There was no way she had not heard the various comments students had been saying about him. Chances were that people were asking her directly, given that they were “the couple” the year prior. The girl that had trounced into his bedroom was probably one of the many, and the one that had confirmed that Steve Harrington was, indeed, having sex with another guy.

“So who was it?” she asked, eyes focusing on him, instead of the hand that had moved onto the “G”.

“Don’t worry about it.”

When he glanced to her, he expected to see aggravation or disgust, but was surprised to see her staring back at him with sympathy. The expression caused his chest to grow tight and face to grow hot. He redirected his attention back to the letter, trying to ignore the look that always made him anxious. Before, that exact expression would cause a protective heat to spread over his chest, to where he wanted to confront the person who made her look that way. Now that it was directed towards him, he did not know how to respond.

He wanted to tell her. Hell, he wanted to tell _someone_; but he could not put that on Billy. If it were to get back to Neil—

He found himself shuddering at the very thought.

“Steve, you know you can talk to me. We’ve been through too much together to lose it over something so small. Just because we’re not together doesn’t mean I don’t care.” She sighed as Steve’s scraping became more focused in an obvious attempt of dismissal. She fell back against the lockers, gaze trailing the span of the otherwise-empty hallway.

Though she had been with Jonathan since October the prior year, she never once made Steve feel unwelcomed. Trying to save Will Byers while taking on parts of the Mind Flayer’s army, realizing he was better at protecting a group of unsupervised children than he ever had been at protecting his at-the-time-partner. She did not know it, but it was that very reason why Steve knew he had to protect Billy. Nancy was able to stand up, fight on her own, protect herself and those she cared for – Steve was useless to her. Just another degenerate to hold her back from her potential. Yet, Steve had the chance to protect Billy, to keep him from the shame, ridicule and abuse he knew he would be subjected to if he were to be outed – not from his peers, but his very own father.

Though he had not witnessed it, hearing Billy’s nonchalance and trivialization of his abuse caused a flare of anger to build in the pit of his bowels.

How Neil would degrade him and hit him over the smallest of things. How the entire reason the family moved to Hawkins, Indiana was because Neil caught Billy with another guy.

“I know you care, Nance, but I can’t tell you. I want to, but I can’t.” He finished up the last part of the “G”, the final bits of paint falling to the floor. He looked to her, only to see a confused, yet, understanding, expression staring back.

“You can, you’re just choosing not to.”

He released a sigh, setting his hand on the locker door. Lying to Nancy was still something he could not bring himself to do. “You’re not going to give me a choice, are you?” She raised her brows with a coy smile. “If I tell you, you have to swear not to tell anyone.” Her expression became serious and she nodded, agreeing to his stipulation. With one last glance to her and a deep breath, he came out with, “Billy.”

Silence fell between them. Nancy’s expression was that of confusion, while Steve’s was that of regret. It took a moment for Nancy to respond.

“Billy? As in ‘Billy Hargrove’?” She choked out with a playful grin. “Come on. Who is it really?” When he did not respond, her expression fell. She shook her head and turned to face him. “Steve…please don’t tell me you’re protecting Billy Hargrove.”

He inhaled, looking at her with brows furrowed upwards.

“It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” She forced out a laugh. “The guy beat the shit out of you last year. I’d say that’s a bit more than “complicated”.”

It was the very reaction he was trying to avoid.

“Look, he’s different, now. I…I can’t explain it, but he’s not like that.” He dropped his shoulders. “Don’t worry about it. Just…don’t tell anyone. No one. Not Jonathan – _no one_. Please.” Steve found himself pleading as Nancy watched him with a mixture of confusion and apprehension. “I can’t lose him.” 

As their eyes connected, the realization took hold and Nancy found herself nodding.

“Okay. So…you’re in a relationship with Billy Hargrove.” Her lips pursed as she looked down the hall to ensure they were still alone. She drew back to him. “Is he at least…treating you all right?”

The memory of Billy smashing a plate over his head ran through his mind, how Billy had him on the floor, beating him until the world grew dark. Later on, being told how Max injected Billy with the sedative they had been giving Will – the only thing that made him stop. The memory caused him to shudder, wondering if he would even be alive had Max not have stepped in.

Even still, it was a different time. Billy was different, he was different – it was a world of misunderstandings. Of which Billy was keen to make up for in his own way.

His approach to Steve in the showers after gym.

How, ever since, Billy treated him like glass that would break if gripped too hard.

“Better than anyone.” They made eye contact once more before Steve’s adverted to fall onto his locker.

Nancy clamped down on her jaw in obvious dispute, and he feared the response. That was until she told him, “As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.” An air of tension rose around them. “But if he ever puts his hands on you—”

“He won’t, Nance,” he cut her off. “Believe me. He won’t.”

They traded a silent moment.

The bell rang to signal the ending of lunch. As the halls began to fill with students, the duo split, a silent promise kept between them.

* * *

Steve shut off the television as the next contestant climbed up the steps to spin the wheel on _The Price Is Right_ and leaned back on the couch. The house was quiet. Crickets, frogs and cicadas echoed in from the surrounding woods, the sounds of which he had become accustomed to partnering the overall seclusion. He stared blankly at the ceiling.

At some point between the end of lunch and the last bell, his locker was tagged again, this time with the word “QUEEN” in red paint. He spent the better part of an hour scraping it off. By the time he left campus, the only people left were those doing extracurriculars and janitorial staff. With the day at an end, all he wanted to do was go home, grab one of the leftover beers from the Spring Break party and wallow in his own self-pity. Luck had completely forsaken him when he got back to his BMW, only to see “STEVE THE FAG” written along the driver’s side doors in white spray paint.

He forwent spending more time at the school, and chose to drove home with the writing, ignoring whatever attention it garnered. It took a few hours to clean up without damaging the vehicle’s original paint, though there were some scratches leftover in certain areas he had given special attention. By the time he did finish, the sun was already setting behind the trees and all he wanted to do was take a shower and relax until deciding to go to bed.

His hair was still damp, and he was dressed in nothing more than his boxer shorts and a white t-shirt. The beer he had been nursing since the beginning of the game show had since lost its carbonation and grew warm. As he brought it up to his lips once more, he heard wheels rolling into the driveway.

The way his day had gone, he was on immediate alert and sat up, setting the bottle on the coffee table. When he heard the engine shut off and car door slam shut, his heart began racing and he grabbed the blow poker by the fireplace before cautiously approaching the door. A loud bang made the doors quake. With the poker in gripped tightly in his dominate hand and the other on the handle, he planted his feet and inhaled.

The door swung open and his apprehension melted away as he dropped the poker.

“Home alone?” The familiar smirk of Billy Hargrove met him on the front porch, glancing down at the fallen makeshift weapon.

Steve laughed and stepped back to let him in, “Always.” There was a flash of sympathy as the door closed. “Sneak out again?” he asked to be met with a shrug.

“Gotta come visit my princess all alone in her tower.”

Steve rolled his eyes in attempt to hide the flush growing across his face. Picking up the fallen fire poker, he pushed passed Billy to lead into the living room, absentmindedly grabbing the neck of his beer bottle as he sat back down on the couch. He ignored Billy’s eyes on him as he took a swig, focusing on the blank screen of the television.

“Saw the message on your locker,” Billy said as he looked around the room before landing on Steve. “Wanna do something about it?”

Steve shrugged his shoulders. “It’s whatever. Just assholes being assholes,” he fed Billy the same line he gave Nancy that morning.

However, unlike Nancy, Billy’s gaze became dark and focused.

“Tell me who.” His voice came out demanding, near threatening. Steve merely shook his head and took another drink. “If it’s Tommy and his bullshit groupies, tell them if they fuck with you, they fuck with me. Problem solved.” Billy fell onto the couch next Steve. He grabbed the beer from Steve’s hand, taking a drink before bringing it down, disgusted over the fact it was warm and flat.

Steve snatched it back. “What? So Neil finds outs? Yeah. That’ll go over great, I’m sure.”

“Don’t worry about that dickweed. I can handle him. What I can’t handle”—he took the bottle back as Steve went to finish was little was left, garnering an annoyed reaction—“is something happening to you that I can put an end to. Especially if it’s because one of those dipshits at school.”

The brunet fell silent and Billy killed off the last bit, making the same face from before as the flat taste stayed on the back of his tongue. He set the bottle on the coffee table and leaned back against the cushions. Seeing Steve lost in thought, Billy leaned forward and caught his lips in a chaste kiss. The reaction he received was Steve’s brows furrowed upwards and eyes glazing over in sympathy, along with hidden guilt. The expression had him wanting to wipe the slate clean and take over any ill thought the older teen had.

With one look, the light moment turned heavy and their tongues began dancing against each other’s. Steve climbed onto his lap, his hands moving to his jaw and hair as one of Billy’s hand ran through Steve’s still-damp hair as the other started rubbing his upper thigh through his boxer shorts. Things grew heavier and the two were rubbing against each other, the friction building. Steve’s hands made their way to Billy’s abdomen and he ran his hands up his well-defined abs to his sculpted chest; meanwhile, Billy’s hands were running up and down his back, arse and thighs, before one ultimately ran up the leg of his boxers and the other through his hair.

Their erections rubbed against each other through the fabrics of jeans and cotton.

Heat rose in the room, skin flushing red.

And when Billy’s hand ran completely up the leg of his boxer’s shorts to grab the cheek of his arse, Steve found himself panting.

“I love you,” Steve muttered, barely above a whisper as he grinded his hips down onto Billy’s lap.

Billy made a throated grunt in response, his fingers entangling themselves into Steve’s hair, his other hand wavering on his thigh. They broke apart just enough for Billy to respond. “You don’t mean that, trust me.”

When he pushed their mouths back together, Steve’s hands when from rubbing his chest to pushing against it. He nodded through it. “Yeah, I do,” he said against his mouth.

In an instant, Billy stopped responding, his fingers in his hair no longer tugging, the one on his thigh stopped rubbing. When Steve felt him stop, he pulled back and opened his eyes, staring into Billy’s, which were distant. Anxiety began creeping its way into his chest. He pushed Billy’s hair back.

“Billy?”

It took a moment, but Billy’s eyes started to refocus. A mirage of emotions ran through them in what could not have been more than a few seconds, none of which Steve could read before Billy drew out, “I gotta get back before they realize I’m gone.”

Steve said nothing, only nodded and rolled off his lap. He watched as Billy got up and fixed his shirt and adjusted his jacket. He fixed his own shirt when he stood to follow Billy to the front door. The tension grew in the small foyer, both silent, even as Billy opened the front door. He glanced to Steve, his hand still on the handle.

“I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

With that, the front door closed.

Steve went back to the couch. He heard the Camaro start up and wheels move on pavement before fading into the distance. His head fell back on the couch to stare back up at the ceiling. The overwhelming sensation of dread eased its way in and his chest grew tight at the realization that he may have messed up the one thing in his life that had been going right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really sorry this took so long.
> 
> Please let me know if you're still interested via comments!!! (^ ^*)


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even being dethroned, the turnout to Steve Harrington's third annual Spring Break Party is a success. During which, someone witnesses Steve in bed with another guy.
> 
> It quickly gets out that Steve Harrington is in a homosexual relationship.
> 
> In the 80s.
> 
> In a small town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while and, for that, I AM SO SORRY!! m(__ __)m
> 
> I got a new job, and with my hours clocking in over 140 every two weeks,  
I really haven't had time to work on this. 
> 
> The limited amount of time I do have, I spend with my doggo. 
> 
> There's actually WAY MORE to this chapter, but given that it's already at eight pages, I figured I'd split it up to give you all something to tie you over until the rest is complete. 
> 
> That being said, I really hope you all are still around!  
I truly am sorry this has taken so long!

** 4 **

Steve’s shoulder hit the floor hard as the warning bell sounded throughout the halls. He groaned and rolled onto his stomach, only to be kicked against the lockers as the crowd that had gathered laughed. Richard stepped back and Donna grabbed his bicep, leaning forward and telling Steve to keep his AIDS to himself before the couple left. People called him various names as they walked by him. One girl even made sure to spit on him as the people who saw her do so cheered her on. He had pushed himself up on his forearms as the last “die faggot” echoed down the hall.

He sat up, pressing his back against the lockers as he released a breath. The adrenaline pumping through his system began to subside and he stared blankly at the lockers on the opposite wall. He contemplated ditching school for the day, but forewent the idea.

It was finally Friday. He had dealt with the comments and the minor assaults since the beginning of the week; there were only a few hours before he could relax in the solace of the weekend. It was not anything he could not handle.

Zoey Gardner had approached him before lunch and asked him if he wanted to meet up later, the underlying connotation clear the way she spoke. He declined her offer with a nervous laugh, which she scoffed at and turned on her heel. Her friends had apparently been waiting at the end of the hall, and he overheard them telling her the only reason he said no was because she did not have a dick. By the time lunch ended, the gossip that had spread was that Steve Harrington had said she was disgusting, along with several other profanities that slipped in. The misinformation had Richard approach him, demanding Steve apologize to her. When Steve’s only reaction was confusion, the response was the lineman grabbing him and shoving him against the lockers. He tried to maintain a stoic stance, his hands pressed against his chest, but faltered when his sneakers left the floor, leaving his legs to dangle a few inches from the floor.

Unlike when he and Billy gave their performance in the halls, the adrenaline coursing through him was his fight or flight – and even he knew the fighting option would only result in his degradation.

Thankfully, he was saved by the bell.

His attention was drawn to footsteps and he turned his head to see Nancy and Jonathan round the corner. Nancy was laughing as Jonathan was smiling awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. He was gathering to his feet when they noticed him.

Next thing he knew, Jonathan was by him, helping him to his feet as Nancy’s eyes were on the new tags on Steve’s locker. He thanked him, to which Jonathan nodded and stepped back.

The tag was the same as Monday, the word “FAG” written across it in red paint.

“I see they’ve kept their originality,” she said, running her fingers through the still-drying paint. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, just a misunderstanding. Anyone else underestimate the strength of our line-backers?” The joking tone received an unimpressed look from Nancy and a confused one from Jonathan.

He looked to the locker and swiped his hand across the door, smearing what paint was still wet. His stared down at the red paint on his palm and fingertips, his mind drifting.

It had been a daily occurrence since Monday, each day coming to find a new message on his locker. He had realized by Wednesday that if he cleaned the words prior to lunch or during the lunch break, someone would paint a new message. If he left it, he only had to clean it once, after the last bell rang. It may have caused him to be the last one to leave the building outside of the janitors, but at least he only had to scrape the paint off once. Nancy had been privy to his daily occurrence that morning, seeing a few students shoving Steve and pushing him down to the ground before laughing as they left the brunet on the floor.

He hated her seeing him at such a point.

She had made a few comments directed towards them as she passed by them, which they either did not hear or chose to ignore. It was still her who helped Steve to his feet, telling him to ignore their immaturity, how school was almost over, and that they would forget about it with the coming weeks. Her reassurance was what gave him the boost he did not know he needed, given that Billy had been avoiding him since his confession.

A hand on his shoulder had him tense.

He looked over to see Nancy’s ever-reassuring smile.

“Talk to him, tell him what’s going on. If he’s the person you believe he is, he’ll stand for you.”

He forced a smile and a nod, his eyes biting back raw emotion.

It was one Jonathan picked up on, having been with his younger brother during the Mind Flayer’s possession. Seeing hidden pain was something he was sure to have become an expert on in the given months; which explained why his hand was on Steve’s back, rubbing up and down in an effort of comfort.

The sensation had his eyes burning, and when Nancy approached him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, he returned the embrace, still holding back the stinging in his eyes that begged to be released. 

* * *

Sneakers pounded on the track around the football field. Several hurdles has been set up along the inner rings, which some students ran around, while others chose to show off by jumping over each one. One person tripped over a low hurdle and stumbled a few feet before crashing into a high one. Those who witnessed the fallacy laughed as they ran around him, and another drove in their moment of embarrassment by jumping over both him and the skewed hurdles as he was recovering. Once they were up, they tried catching up, only to be lapped.

Steve had predominately kept to the outer ring to avoid most of his peers. For the most part, it worked, the only others running along the same path doing so to avoid the hurdles altogether. He was not running as fast as he could, instead choosing to keep pace to avoid having anyone run by him, if only to keep from someone intentionally pushing him to the pavement.

Outside of a few people shoving him out of the way while changing out into their gym clothes in the locker room, people had left him alone. He had caught sight of Billy when everyone had walked out towards the track. They made eye contact, but only for a moment before Steve broke away and split off to side to start stretching. Tommy had made the comment that he “didn’t want the school homo checking out his ass” as he and a group walked by, which Steve ignored as the group let out several laughs. It took all of his willpower not to make the comment that Tommy did not have an ass worth checking out.

As the class completed their mile and went to catch their breaths, the coach called for their attention. Given that it was a class of seniors, and knowing their mere attendance was something to be hailed by the end of the week, he gave the option of staying outside to keep running around the track, or to go inside the gymnasium for basketball. The majority took up the latter, leaving only a few out on the track. Along with Steve, two band members chose to forgo the inside game, instead finding more entertainment in discussing their final performance during the graduation ceremony set to being in a few weeks. Meanwhile, Steve did not feel the need for the conflict he knew he would have been the centre of had he have chosen to go inside.

He had enough experience with that the day before, when even the people on his own team would shove him the floor or hit him in the head with the ball. At the time, he and Billy had been on the same team, and even he was somewhat surprised when Billy caught the ball as someone intentionally threw it to hit Steve in the back of the head, only to run the ball down the court to score. When someone asked after class why he intercepted the ball, Billy had told them that their aim was crap. Judging by Billy’s avoidance afterwards, Steve was wondering if Billy even knew what he had done.

“Steve!” one of the two band members called as they jogged next to him. Out of reflex, he tensed, expecting further humiliation. Yet, it was laid to rest as the small, glasses-donning redhead asked, “What sounds better for graduation: “Don’t You Forget About Me” or “Forever Young”?”

“How is this even a debate?” their bandmate asked in full sardonicism as they rolled their eyes.

Steve chuckled as they all fell into an even pace.

“Isn’t “Don’t You Forget About Me” a bit mainstream?” He bit back a laugh as he glanced to see the two exchange glances, as if asking themselves that very question. “Then again, “Forever Young” sounds like something they played at Prom, so it’s on you guys.”

The shear confusion on their faces had him laugh and pick up his pace, leaving them behind to continue their discussion. He could hear them arguing as he left them behind, jogging to increase the distance to half a lap. As he rounded the loop, the two band members had stopped jogging and were standing off to the side, clearly yelling at each other about what had to have been song choices. Getting closer, he overheard one say;

“It _does_ sound like what was played at Prom! Not my fault!”

“Oh, so you’re going to trust what he says over what I say?!” the redheaded one yelled back, to which the response was completely unexpected.

“He’s gay! So of course I’m going to trust his opinion on fucking music! For wanting to be a composer, your ear is shit!”

Steve nearly tripped as he barely kept his composure, but lost it when he was outside of hearing range. His hands were on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, the laughter coming out in short gasps. It took him a moment to recover. He picked up jogging against once he could breathe without laughing, though it ended up being more of a powerwalk. When he came into view of the two band members again, they had already begun walking, their conversation clearly dissolving to something more light-hearted, whereas they were both laughing.

It did not seem that much longer before they were being called back inside at the end of the class. Steve acted to be distracted, checking his gym shoes and knocking off non-existent dirt and debris, checking behind him for items he knew he did not take with him to the track. He was only called back by the coach, yelling at him to hit the showers before the bell rang.

When he did enter the locker room, it was fairly empty, only a few people finishing up with shirts being put on and the endings of conversations as the locker room door would scrape the floor each time it was opened and closed. His shoes squeaked on the tile floor as he approached his locker, which, surprisingly, was void of writing. He was in the midst of getting his towel and toiletries when hearing his name come from behind him had him subconsciously tense.

“So we’re probably gonna go with “Don’t You Forget About Me”, but what do you think would be unique for our class?”

Steve shrugged as he shut the locker, turning to the band member who accused his friend of having a bad ear. “Fuck it. Go big. Do that Jagger and Bowie song.”

What he meant as a joke had them laughing. They held up their hand, pointing at him. “That is _brilliant_. Steve, you’re a genius.” He appeared lost in thought for a moment before coming out with, “I need to go see our band director.”

They adjusted their backpack on their shoulders and left the room, the door slamming shut behind him. Steve was left staring after him. He raised his brows and shook his head, now mentally prepping himself for an auditorium full of unsuspecting friends and families watching the graduating class walk in to _Dancing in the Street_. It was unlikely to happen, but at least their time at Hawkins could end on a high note.

He caught a glimpse of Billy already towelling off as he walked to the showers. The other did not even glance up, instead caught up in some bullshit conversation with Tommy, who still had his own towel around his hips. An unwanted wave of jealousy ran through him, but he shook it off, subconsciously tightening his grip on his items. Being willing to talk to one of the people orchestrating Steve’s torment caused a pang he had never experienced. Initially, it had hurt him to see Nancy with Jonathan, but it was a mixture of jealousy and an unwillingness to accept their relationship had ended. With Billy, it was nothing but pain.

They had something, or at least he thought.

It was realising that what he thought they had was one-sided that hurt the most.

The way Billy would randomly show up at his house. How they would make out on the couch before ultimately watching whatever movie or show was on before Billy had to leave hours later to avoid being caught sneaking out. How more times than not, they would drive to the middle of nowhere to stare at the stars and revel in each other’s presence.

Now understanding that the only reason they had those moments was for the ultimate release made his heart tighten in his chest.

He released a long breath stepping into the showers and dropping his towel off on the bench. Fortune was on his side and he was the last one left to shower, the room empty. The privacy was more than welcomed. For the first time that week, he was able to clean in peace.

Just yesterday, between Tommy, Madsen and someone named Goodwin, who had barely acknowledged Steve in four years of high school, locked him in the supply closet in the hallway outside of the gym, telling him to use the cleaner if he wanted to wash. By the time he was found by a janitor, he was having a conversation with a mop about the situation. The poor man who found him was genuinely concerned about what had happened, asking if he was okay and if Steve needed to talk to someone, but Steve said he was fine and to take care of the mop, which he said was a great listener.

As he was finishing up, a dull throb radiated to his groin.

Without prompting, he was taken back to when Billy would approach him the showers, before their relationship was even a thought. How Billy would stroke him. How he would rub their pricks together, grunts and moans only overshadowed by the roar of the showerheads.

Next thing he knew, Steve was touching himself – his hand bracing him against the faucet as the memories of their first encounters rushed into his head.

Billy’s muscular build against his back.

His hand stroking him and lips on his neck.

Supporting his weight as Steve’s knees begged to buckle.

Telling Steve how pretty his voice was when he whined and moaned.

That last memory forced and unwilling grunt from his throat and he came, shooting out in sharp spurts.

His heart slowed down, the sweat that had formed being washed away by the running water, along with any evidence of his lack of self-control. It did not take long to clean up afterwards, and when he exited the showers with his towel around his waist, he appeared to be the last one left in the locker room. He had just dropped his towel to put on his boxer shorts when the sound of boots on wet tile came from behind him. A jolt of anxiety coursed through him and he subconsciously hurried through covering himself.

It worsened as he caught the familiar blonde sit down on the bench that lined the locker doors. He focused on putting his jeans on as Billy sat with his elbows on his knees.

“_Dancing in the Street_? Really?” Billy asked with an upward inflection, a half smirk toying with his features as he looked to Steve.

Steve shrugged as he slipped his shirt on. “At least something could make this shit year end decently. Besides, it’s not like they’d actually do it.” He ignored Billy’s stare as he brought his shirt over his abdomen. “So what were you and Tommy on about?” He grabbed his socks and shoes.

Billy groaned as he leaned up against the lockers. “Just more bullshit that makes me want to cave his fucking face in. Just give me the okay and it’s done.” He frowned when Steve scoffed. “Steve—”

“Do whatever,” was the nonchalant response.

Silence came between them while Steve finished getting dressed. He was putting his used gym clothes in his backpack to take home for the weekend when Billy sighed and hung his head. When Steve began zipping up his bag, Billy reached out to grab his forearm.

“Look, about Monday—”

“It’s fine.” Steve slammed the locker closed and grabbed his backpack, pulling his arm away. Slinging it over his shoulder, he looked at Billy, not even bothering to acknowledge the concerned look the blonde was not attempting to conceal. “I get it. You wanted someone to sleep with who you knew wouldn’t say anything. I get that. I shouldn’t have thought so deep into it and that’s on me. So don’t worry about it. I can handle myself.”

With that, he glanced down, his heart pounding and eyes burning as he left the locker room, the door slamming behind him.


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even being dethroned, the turnout to Steve Harrington's third annual Spring Break Party is a success. During which, someone witnesses Steve in bed with another guy.
> 
> It quickly gets out that Steve Harrington is in a homosexual relationship.
> 
> In the 80s.
> 
> In a small town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took waaaaaay longer than I meant it to! ｡ﾟ( ﾟஇ‸இﾟ)ﾟ｡
> 
> I kept trying to get the motivation work on it, but between the holiday seasons and some personal stuff, I just didn't have the drive.  
Today, I finally sat down and was like,  
"LET'S GET THIS DONE!" 
> 
> And ta-da! =(^ v ^)=  
I hope this chapter was worth the wait!  
And thank you all for being so patient!!

** 5 **

The last bits of paint fell to the floor as Steve finished scraping off the most recent tags on his locker.

The students whose lockers were in the same wing made sure to make several comments before they left for the weekend. The various remarks had him anticipating the next two days without ridicule. He had already promised to take Dustin and the others to the arcade. At least that was the plan before the middle schoolers would congregate to continue their Dungeons and Dragons campaign at Will’s house. Dustin had made sure to tell Steve the full plot, and that their campaign had gone on for over two weeks. All Steve could do was nod and agree, though he had no clue as to what was being said to him.

He grabbed his bag from the now-barren locker, along with the paint scraper, which he made sure to drop off in the art classroom on his way out. One of the janitors told him to enjoy the weekend, which he echoed, as he walked down the hall and left the building. Outside, the late spring air was evidence that graduation was coming up, which allowed him a sense of relief.

The walk to the senior parking lot was quiet enough and he found himself adjusting the bag slung over his shoulder. Familiar faces were by the Ford Galaxie parked next to his BMW, caught up in conversation. Jonathan said something that had Nancy laugh and Steve cursed himself for the familiar feeling of jealousy that ran through him. For the first time, it was not because another man was able to make her laugh the way he used to, but because he had no longer experienced those moments with Billy as they had for the past few months.

Catching him, Nancy waved him over. He adjusted his backpack on his shoulder, blanketing himself with a nonchalant expression he had become accustomed to as he approached them.

“What took you so long?” was the first thing said to him as Nancy embraced him.

There was a shrug as he pulled back. “Just some after school clean-up.” He chuckled, which received a concerned reaction from Nancy and an awkward one from Jonathan. “So what’s this?” It was a clear reference to the two waiting for him.

“Wanted to make sure you were okay,” Jonathan said, his hands shoved in his pockets. Steve’s expression fell and Nancy nodded.

He quickly recovered and smirked. “I appreciate it, but I’m fine, really.” He shook his head in response to their reactions. “Nothing I can’t handle.” There was the sound of a car door slamming close. “What do you all have planned for the weekend?”

Jonathan shrugged as Nancy answered. “Putting in more applications. Might go see _Private Resort_. If we do, you’re more than welcomed to come along.” There was a reassuring nod from Jonathan, despite Steve’s obvious discomfort from the invite.

There was another sound of a car door closing and Steve found himself feeling small.

Jonathan and Nancy were trying – they honestly were, but they had their own lives to live. It was not fair for them to concern themselves with what was going on in his. Not after everything they had all gone through.

Multiple car doors closed and Nancy suddenly stood straight. Jonathan glanced up and was quick to follow, subconsciously standing in front of her as both of their attentions were trained behind Steve. The only reaction Steve had was inhaling as his shoulders went up. He clamped down on his jaw. Hearing the footsteps and laughter approach from behind, it was something he had been expecting since the beginning of the week and found himself wanting to laugh at falling into the false sense of security. The tagged lockers and teasing in the hallways would ultimately culminate to a stand-off – one there had been a glimmer of avoiding altogether.

He wondered if Nancy and Jonathan sensed the same, and that was the reason they had chosen today of all days to wait for him after school.

“What’s up, Harrington?”

His exhale was forced as his shoulder was shoved, causing him to stumble forward.

“Going home. Like you should be at this point.”

He turned, defences going up at seeing not just his old friends Tommy and Carol, but also Richard and Madsen, along with other members of the football team, and Zoey with one of her groupies. The response had a few chuckles echo throughout the small group, and Richard took a step forward.

“You know, I don’t think going home is on your agenda this weekend.”

It was a clear attempt at sizing Steve up, something that was easily done, given the lineman’s size in comparison. Even still, Steve refused to backdown. It took a lot of his willpower not to flinch when Richard jerked forward, which had the group laugh. It was the moment Nancy came forward and stood between them.

“Rich, back off. Steve hasn’t done anything to you,” her voice came out steady, calm and damn near threatening.

While Richard’s actions did not cause him to tense, seeing Nancy on the offence that he knew she was capable of had his heart race. Though it was unlikely, thinking that his aggression would turn onto her gave him an adrenaline rush and he found himself holding his hands up to redirect the attention.

“Guys, guys, it’s Friday. Why are we still even hanging around school?” Steve let out a nervous laugh at an apparent attempt to cut the tension. “Graduation’s coming up, we need to pack for college, make sure our robes fit, let Mr. Anderson know his Chemistry class sucked.” The last line had a few people caught off guard and hiding snickers behind scowls.

“Almost as much as you’re sucking dick,” someone commented, which Steve realized his regret as soon as his response “Richard isn’t my type” left his lips.

The world spun as a fist made contact with his temple, sending him to the ground. Before he even had a chance to recover, there was a kick to his stomach as another slammed down on his back. He was faintly aware of Nancy screaming in the background, which had him trying to recover. The moment he was to all fours, a shoe to his side had him collapse, heaving and coughing as various shouts and comments were shot back-and-forth. When someone started to step on his head, Jonathan’s voice rang out, telling them to stop before grabbing and shoving the person off.

The attention that had been focused on Steve switched to Jonathan, and Madsen had him against the car, delivering several punches to his stomach and chest before returning his attention to Steve. Jonathan fell to the ground, sliding down his car, his arms wrapped around his abdomen as Nancy was next to him, still screaming at everyone to stop in the midst of ensuring her partner was all right. When Steve felt another kick to his stomach, Nancy had grabbed them by their shirt and punched them square in the face, causing them to stumble backwards, calling her a bitch. Another female shoved her to the ground as the group surrounded Steve and began dragging him off towards the football field.

She kept yelling for Steve, even as his shouts and the group’s laughter became distant. Jonathan was pulling her up, yet, also preventing her from running after them. As she turned to him to protest, he cut her off.

“We need to get help!”

“Help?” she muttered before her face lit up. She pulled away from her partner. “We need to get Billy, come on!” Nancy shouted as she ran to the passenger side of Jonathan’s Ford Galaxie.

“Billy?” was the confused reaction as they jumped into the car. “As in Billy Hargrove?”

“I’ll explain later, just drive!”

The moment the car came to life, the tires screeched on the pavement, peeling out of the parking lot to the main road, speeding down the road in the direction of the Hargrove residence. It had not been long since they saw Billy’s Camaro exit the senior lot, and there was a high probability he was still on the road.

They came up on the blue Camaro not a moment later and sped around it before slamming on the brakes, blocking the roadway. The Camaro came to a screeching halt mere centimetres from the Galaxie. Billy stepped out almost as quickly as Nancy and Jonathan did, a cigarette in his mouth and shoulders squared. His attention skipped over Nancy and had gone straight to Jonathan, whose jaw tightened and body tensed as he took a step back.

“What the fuck do you think you’re on?” Billy pushed Jonathan backwards against his Galaxie.

“Listen, it’s not—”

He was cut off by Billy grabbing the front of his shirt and shoving him against his car. With his adrenaline ready to defend himself, it began to subside when Nancy grabbed Billy’s shoulder. He merely shook her hand off, focus still on the one in front of him; but the air changed when Nancy yelled out, “It’s Steve!”

In an instant, Billy’s entire demeanour dropped, as did the cigarette in his mouth. His attention went from Jonathan to Nancy as his expression changed from anger to confusion. The two made eye contact, Nancy’s determined, unrelenting. His eyes darted from her to the teen he still had against the car. Releasing Jonathan’s shirt, his head motioned to his car.

* * *

“Fucking fag!” one of the girls called out as Steve rolled onto his side, a groan emanating from his throat as the onslaught momentarily ceased.

The relief did not last and the group surrounded him. He had lost track of who was where; all he could feel was being held down as he was stripped of his socks and shoes, followed by tugging of his jeans. The pounding in his head and pain that sent shockwaves throughout his chest and abdomen had him acutely aware of what was happening, but all he could do was pull enough strength to keep yelling for them to stop. He brought his arms up to protect his head just as whoever was on top of him tried punching him in the temple. Pain radiated down his forearm from where it made contact, but it was better than the alternative.

His wrists were grabbed and pulled from his face, and it was followed by his shirt being pulled up and off. He started throwing blind punches, and he was certain his elbow hit someone, which most likely explained why both hands were caught and the next thing he felt was duct tape being wrapped around his wrists.

Someone to his left started yelling, “Get his legs! Get his legs!”

The thrashing became more violent, as did his screams, nearly begging for them to stop and to get off. Someone sat on his legs, trapping them, and he felt the stick of tape meet his ankles. He could hear someone, who sounded like Carol, claim that he was crying, which even in his situation, he found ridiculous. 

He could not even remember the last time he cried. After everything they had all experienced the year prior, there was no way something as simple as a minor assault had him cry.

A foot slammed down on his head and he collapsed, groaning and sucking in what could not have been a sob.

Nothing but a gurgle escaped him. Even with the blood pounding in his ears and his vision blurry between blood and what-definitely-were-not-tears, he could swear he heard what sounded like an engine revving and something moving fast onto the field from the parking lot. Then again, the concussion he most likely suffered could have been causing a hallucination – if they could even do that.

Everyone’s attention was drawn to the movement.

The moment a familiar boot hit the grass and the door slammed shut, the group started calling him over. There was a clear sense of confusion when Nancy got out of the passenger side and Jonathan was seen nearly crawling out from the backseat. Approaching the group, the few girls that were involved immediately stepped back, as did some of the guys. Tommy, whose attention was predominately focused on Steve, turned when he heard some of the guys welcoming the new arrival. It was immediately met by Billy pushing him away before pulling Richard up from his kneeling position, leaving the roll of duct tape to dangle from where it had been wrapped around Steve’s head and mouth.

Before Richard could get a word out, the six-foot tall linebacker collapsed to the ground as a closed fist made contact with the bridge of his nose. He tried to recover, blood pouring from his nose that had obviously been broken, but was pushed back down by the heel of a boot on his chest.

“Don’t even try it,” Billy’s voice came out low, his heel digging into the other’s sternum. He caught Nancy and Jonathan going to Steve from his peripheral. “Or you can kiss that sorry-ass scholarship goodbye.”

Steve groaned behind him as the sound of duct tape being pulled off permeated the air, and Billy found himself staring down anyone who dared attempt to challenge him.

“He’s nothing but a faggot,” Tommy called out after having gathered to his feet. It could not help but be noted that Carol was now standing several feet away from him. “Why’s it matter what happens to him?”

His entire body went rigid when Billy approached him, his mere presence emanating nothing but dominance and rage. “Got balls calling someone you want to fuck a faggot.” He swallowed hard as Billy’s gaze swiped him up and down, sizing him up, judging him. “Think it wasn’t obvious? The way you look at him, acting like some jealous whore?” The surrounding group abandoned their attention on Steve, leaving Nancy and Jonathan to attend to the brunet still on the ground. “You wanna act like some whore, then stay on your fucking back.”

With that, he shoved Tommy to the ground and turned his attention to those still looking. As Nancy and Jonathan were assisting Steve to his feet, and Nancy’s sweater-vest was being held against one of the wounds on Steve’s forehead, Billy turned towards the group.

“If any of you shitbirds wanna fuck with Harrington, try me first.”

Once he heard the passenger door shut on his car and the driver’s door open, and realised no one was making eye contact with him, he turned on his heel just in time to see Jonathan climbing across the front seat into the back by Nancy. For a split moment, he found humour in thinking about the two of them squeezing into the back of his car – in the near non-existent backseat. It was immediately overshadowed by seeing Nancy leaning into the front seat with nothing but concern on her face as she wiped more blood away with her sweater-vest. Steve was nodding with his eyes closed, muttering that he was fine.

Billy got into the driver’s seat and slammed the door closed.

With a glance to Steve, and to Nancy as she leaned back in the backseat, he hit the clutch and threw the car into third, wheels digging up dirt as the car sped up and turned on the field back towards the road.

The drive back to where Jonathan’s Galaxie was left abandoned in near the middle of the road was done in silence, with the exception of pained groans and grunts coming from Steve every-so-often. The silence did not last long after they were back on the road. Without prompting, Billy’s voice cut through.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Harrington,” Billy said as Steve’s head fell to the side towards the window. In the backseat, Nancy and Jonathan exchanged awkward glances. “You take all this shit on without knowing how to handle a goddamn thing and expect to just walk away. Well, look where the fuck it got you.” He caught Steve’s eyes fluttering open to stare out of the window before falling back. Billy sighed, refraining from hitting his steering wheel. “I told you to give me the okay and I would’ve taken care of it, but fuck if you listen.”

Even with the blood and forming bruises, the furrowing of Steve’s brows was apparent. As silence enveloped the car once more, Billy found himself reaching his hand over to the passenger seat and gripped Steve’s hand, even as his eyes failed to trail from the road. He clamped down on his jaw when Steve did not return the sentiment.

The car began to slow as the Ford Galaxie came into view. He pulled his car off to the curb directly behind the other, shifting his car into park. He took his hand from the gear shift and set it on the wheel. Releasing a sigh, he fell back in the seat, eyes cast on the bumper in front of him.

“You’re not just someone to sleep with, you know. You…drive me fucking insane the way you try to hold shit in and deal with it on your own and I know what you’re going to say”—he cut Steve off before his groan turned into a comment—“but one of us is enough.” A thick air filled the car as Steve’s breath was shallow and Billy’s was tense. Even with the audience in the back, Billy brought his full attention to the brunet in the passenger seat. “You mean everything to me, Steve, and I don’t want to lose you.” Another pause drew before Billy reached to grasp Steve’s hand once more. Rubbing his thumb over his knuckles, he came out with, “I love you, too.”

Silence enveloped the vehicle as Billy’s eyes were trained on Steve, waiting for some form of response. Steve’s jaw clenched and, for a moment, the blond was ready for Steve to tell him off. Hell, the last thing he deserved was him.

The anger that had surfaced and the hope that had dwindled began to reverse behind Billy’s eyes when Steve’s fingers wrapped about his own. Steve rolled his head to face him, but it took him another moment for his eyes to travel from Billy’s jaw to his eyes. Before he could look away, Billy reached up to push his hair back and kiss him softly on the forehead, garnering a small groan in response.

“Hang tight, pretty boy,” Billy said as he leaned back and got out of the car to allow Jonathan and Nancy to climb out of the back.

Jonathan set his hand on Steve’s shoulder before he got out, while Nancy pressed her sweater vest to the still-bleeding cut on his head.

“Keep it on there a bit longer. The bleeding’s almost stopped.” Steve nodded and took hold of it. “We’ll stop by later to check on you, okay?”

Again, he nodded. As she moved to climb over the driver’s seat to exit, Steve called her back.

“Hey, Nance?” She turned back once she was out. A grateful smile made its way to Steve’s features behind his hooded eyes. “Thanks for everything.”

She mirrored his reaction.

Approaching Jonathan’s Galaxie, Jonathan was sitting in the driver’s seat sideways, his elbows on his knees as he was talking to Billy, who was standing by the opened door, leaning against it. She could overhear Billy expressing his gratitude in the only way he knew how, but it was evident by his body language that his appreciation and concern for Steve took precedence.

“I told Steve we’d stop by later tonight to check up on him.” Both of their attentions went to Nancy. Jonathan nodded in agreement, while Billy seemed somewhat ill at ease. He and Nancy made eye contact. Nancy’s were stern, that ever-unrelenting gaze piercing through him. “You better take care of him.”

“Better than anyone else ever has.”

There was a silent challenge between them.

It was only broken by Jonathan cutting through the tension.

“We better go. Let Steve get home and rest.”

She nodded, her eyes still trained on Billy, whose were a mirage of emotions that stayed hidden behind his exterior. Walking to the passenger side, she was just about to climb in when Billy’s voice caught her.

“I won’t let anyone hurt him again. No matter who it is.”

Nancy did not respond and got into the car, the door slamming closed. As Jonathan started up the car, and the wheels grinded on gravel and dirt as it pulled onto the road, Billy looked back at Steve behind the windscreen in his Camaro. His eyes were staring blankly out the side window, the bloodied sweater vest still held to his head. Walking back to the car, Steve lolled his head to face him and give him a small, sincere smile. Billy sighed as he got into the driver’s seat.

Starting up the car and shifting it into first, he relaxed when Steve set his head on his shoulder, a soft smile crossing his face since he could remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go~
> 
> Thank you all so much for your feedback!  
I really hope you enjoyed this chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter of planned series.
> 
> The reactions I get to this will determine if I continue it.
> 
> That being said, if you're okay with this being a cliff-hanging one-shot, leave kudos!  
If you want a continuation, please comment to let me know! Otherwise...I don't know what you all really want!


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